My Name is River
by Nowhere in Particular
Summary: River never felt at home in the wilds of Cimarron. For one, he's got to try and live up to everyone's expectations, and having a living ledgend for a father isn't exactly easy. So he goes his own way...I suck at summeries, so just read it XP. REVIEW PLS!
1. Chapter 1: In Which I Know My Place

**Chapter 1: In Which I Know My Place**

My name is River, and I am not yet three.

You may not know me, but if you are here, then you know my father. He was a hero among our kind, the one who could do it all. He was taken when he was young, and then he met my mother, and he fell in love—his first love. After everything he went through with the painted men and the men who whip their horses, he found her, and he loved her still. I want a mare like that, someday.

My father's name is Spirit, and my mother is Rain. She is a paint, and he is a dun, and I…well, my grandmother says I have the "cuteness genes" which skipped a generation in my father. I whole-heartedly agree (though I think she only says that because we look the same: we both have the same thin face that drives the members of the opposite sex insane, and big fluttery eyes that stare at you like this OO. Well, no. Maybe more like this oo. Yeah, that's more like it. We're both palomino as well, only mommy says I'm sexier because I'm a paint. I love it when mares indulge me.)

"River!"

I snapped out of my daydreams. "No!"

"What?"

I looked around. Father was giving me that look. I hate that look. It's the way your mates look at you when you insist unicorns exist—like your completely insane and they can't decide whether your dangerous and they should stay away, confused and they should help you, or stupid and shouldn't even bother to rehabilitate you. Yeah, _that _look.

"Are you alright?" he asked, trotting up beside me. "Do you need to lie down?"

I glared at him. I hate being treated like a baby, and that's pretty baby-ish. "No, I don't need to lie down, thanks."

"You seem…_off_ today," he insisted.

"I'm not off and I don't need to lie down! I'm a big boy! Big boys don't take naps or lie down next to their mommies!"

"That's not what I—"

"Sky, race you to the giant tree!" I shouted before father could finish. I was not in the mood for nagging. Rephrase that. I was not, am not, or ever will be in the mood for nagging.

Sky stared at me with a mouthful of grass. "Yer on!" he said, chewing it once and swallowing. "On four. FOUR!"

We sprinted off towards the tree at the center of the valley, as far away from my father as possible. Of course, Sky won as he usually did, but I didn't care. I never win, so I quite trying years ago. I'm not much of a runner.

I had been to that tree many times in my almost three years, but never had I seen anything like this, and never had something affected me so much (except maybe the time my hoof got stuck in a lag. I was only a few days old, and until now I have this paranoia of dead trees).

Standing in the grass was a mare—a chestnut mare, with a flaming red mane that spilled over her slender, curved neck. She was unlike any of the horses I had ever seen. She was graceful and petite, and her tail looped forward over her haunches. And what was on her back? Wait a second…is it _eating her back?_ Holy hooves it IS!

I reared up and neighed loudly.

"What are you _doing_?!" Sky said, hopping back a few steps. "You gone MAD?!"

I dived down the hill, Sky at my heels, towards the mare with the half-eaten back.

"STOP IT YOU MORRON!" Sky shouted. He lunged at me and knocked me to the ground.

The mare whinnied and jumped back, and a small head lifted up off of the ground.

I tumbled around in the grass for a while, nipping at Sky and flailing my legs.

"I'll let you up if you promise not to be an idiot!" he shouted.

"It's _eating _her!" I shouted back, staring forlornly at the mare.

"It's…what?" he glanced at her, then rolled his brown eyes and nipped my neck. "It's a saddle, you _moron_! It's not going to eat anyone. IT'S NOT REAL!"

"What?" I asked.

He pushed himself off of me. "My apologies for my friend, miss," he said to the mare. "He's all mane, no brain."

"Am not!" I snapped.

The mare laughed. "It's all right. No harm done."

The little head stared at me, those big green eyes boring holes in my forehead. Its mane was as red as the mare's—redder even—and it fell strangely over its shoulders. Its face was covered in freckles, just like Sky had, only they looked better on him. All and all, the thing looked…well, I won't lie. I thought it was going to kill me and have me for dinner.

I nudged Sky. "What's _that_?" I asked, jutting my head out in its general direction.

"That, my friend, would be a little girl," he replied.

The "little girl" stood up.

I jumped back. "It's _hideous_!" I shouted.

"Excuse me!" the mare snapped. "She's mine, and she is _not _hideous. She's rather good looking compared to the other people they have on display."

"There's _more_?!" I stuttered.

"Aren't they _beautiful_, Ruby?" the little girl said, awestricken (and who can blame her? I_ am_ a heartthrob, you know).

"I think they're rather gruesome, actually," she said, shaking her head in disapproval. What can I say, she had bad taste.

The little girl crept close to me and reached out a split hoof ("hand" I think they call it. Maybe not…hans, hatch, hat…something of "h").

I pranced back nervously.

"You hurt her and I'll kill you," Ruby said, whinnying softly.

I stopped prancing and shut my eyes. "Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me," was all I could think. Then something soft touched my cheek and a little voice whispered, "There, there, beautiful. No need to worry, I'm not going to hurt you." She breathed onto my neck and kissed it softly.

I had never been at home in the wilds of Cimarron, finding my way through the dark nights and suffering through the harsh, freezing winters. I was never cut out for that kind of thing, where as my father—well, he's perfect. So naturally, people have high expectations for the only son of their fearless leader. It's a lot to live up to, isn't it? Especially for an easygoing steed like me. To sum it all up…I was lost.

But the second that little girl touched me, I knew my place.


	2. Chapter 2: In Which I Follow The Path

**Chapter 2: In Which I Follow the Path**

I couldn't sleep that night. It was awful. I tossed my head and I turned until the moon sat in the middle of the sky.

"I can't do this," I muttered to myself. I walked silently away from my family and crept over to Sky. I nudged him with my muzzle and whispered, "Hey, you up?"

"No," he said, shifting away from me.

"Good. Show me where the people live," I demanded.

"Go away. I'm sleeping."  
"Common Sky! At least tell me where it is!"

"Pass the big tree, go left. You'll come to a path eventually. Follow it. Now leave me alone," he mumbled sleepily.

"Thanks."

I walked the way up to the tree silently, weaving through the sleeping foals and creeping around the snoring adults. When I reached the tree, I glanced back at my family and sighed, "See ya." Then I took off at full speed down the side of the hill.

It was an uneventful night, and I spent most of it walking. Once I startled a snake and it tried to bite at my heels, but that was the height of it.

It wasn't until early morning when I actually did see something of interest. I had followed the path for four or five hours by then, and my hooves hurt, and so did my head, and I was cold and lonely and depressed, so seeing the other horses was a welcome sight.

I neighed loudly and reared up on my hind legs, then raced towards them. But there was something in my way. I didn't see it until the last minute, so I slammed headlong into it, which made my headache even worse.

A little buckskin filly bounced up to me, her bobtail flinging up and down as she came. "Look mommy!" she shouted. "He ran into the fence." She laughed and hopped backwards and forwards in a playful way, then grabbed my ear between her teeth and yanked.

I howled in pain. "What's WRONG with you?!" I snapped.

"Honey, get away from there!" A large brown mare with a full face and a large white stripe came trotting towards us. She was odd looking, with long tufts of fur bounding fluttering around her hooves and her mane tied up in balls. "Leave that poor boy alone!"

"Yeah. Shoo," I said, dodging her teeth.

"But mommy, he's so funny!" she replied.

"Honey, he's on the other side of the fence. Come along."

The little filly looked at me sadly, the bounced back to her mama. The big brown mare looked me over.

"Are you lost, dear?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I know the way home," I said proudly.

"Then you better get along, love. You're human must be worried sick."

"My…oh, no. I don't have a human. That's why I came."

She pranced back, shoving the filly behind her. "You're _wild_?" she asked, shocked.

I nodded. "I don't want to be though. It's my dad's world, you know? Not mine. Were can I find a human?"

The large mare stared at me, stunned, and I starred back. And then, after a few minutes of silence, I said, "Welp, nice talking to ya," and walked on down the path toward a giant red building that sat behind the "fence" thing.

As I came closer, I heard the snorts and whinnies of horses and the strange language of the people. I started to get excited, and I wanted to run towards the giant building, but I kept my cool. I wanted to look nice on my first day.

A stout man with short hair on his face and no mane (the oddest thing _I've_ ever seen by far. No mane?) came out of the building, pushing a bucket on wheels that clinked and shuddered as it moved, piled high with dry yellow hay.

The man dropped the moving bucket and stared at me, wide eyed. I snorted at him (my way of saying 'how-di-do' seeing as people can't speak). He shouted and ran back into the big building.

There was hushed but hurried talk coming from inside, and I pointed my ears towards the entrance.

"It's wild I tell you!" the man insisted. "No saddle, no bridle, no halter, not even a blanket!"

I peered inside discretely. There was a taller man with a short black mane and a brown squishy thing covering it. He tugged the squishy thing over his off his head and stared towards me. "If he's so wild," he said, "why hasn't he run away?"

The stout man looked where the other was pointing—right at me—and squeaked. "That's him, all right, boss!"

Boss scratched his head, and then took something out of his pocket. It was spherical and about the size of my muzzle, and bright red. And it smelled _heavenly._

"C'mere boy!" he said gently taking a step over to me. He shook the thing in his hand. "Yummies!"

_Mmmm. Yummies…_

I trotted up to him and snatched the yummies from his hand. It tasted so _good_. The sweet, sticky juice leaked down from the corners of my mouth and dripped down my muzzle.

"Does that seem wild to you?" Boss asked, jerking a thumb at me. "Et it right out of my hand he did."

"No," the stout man said, staring down at the ground.

"Probably a runaway. Well, best get the master, see what we do with this one."

The stout man jumped up and scurried out the door.

Boss sighed and looked at me. "You are a handsome one," he said, patting my cheek. I neighed.

"Oh please," came a voice from behind. "Don't indulge him Joseph."

Boss…er, Joseph, looked at something behind me. "Jealous are we, Ruby?" he asked. "Scared he's prettier than you?"

I craned my neck behind me. Sure enough, there was Ruby, poking her head out of one of the little rooms that I hadn't noticed. Actually, I hadn't noticed _any_ of the little rooms, and now that I looked at them, there was a horse sticking his or her head out of almost all of them.

"Prettier than _me_? I don't think so. _I'm _a sweepstakes winner. And what's he? A dirty pig with no manners." She stomped her foot. "What are you doing in my house, dirty pig?"

I stared at her, then turned away without answering. I was in no mood to indulge a stuck up little sweepstakes winner (whatever that is).

Joseph pulled a blue strapy thing off a hooky-guy and came up to my head. "On with your halter then, big guy," he said slipping my head through the straps. I jerked back. I didn't want that _abomination_ on my head thanks. If Ruby did it, was bound to be the epitome of stuck up and snooty. I'm not stuck up or snooty, just incredibly handsome.

"Hush now, big boy," he whispered, reaching out and scratching my neck. The abomination came close again and I stepped backwards.

"Common beauty," he whispered soothingly. "I'm not going to bite you."

"It's not you I'm worried about," I muttered, taking another couple of steps back as he tried once more to put the abomination over my muzzle.

Ruby scoffed at me. "Mongrel," she muttered.

I glared at her for one second—one second too long. Joseph slipped the abomination over my muzzle and behind my ears.

"There you go, big boy," he said softly. "It's a little snug, but we'll get you your own soon."

It was a little snug. A little _very_ snug. It pinched my ears and made my forehead throb, adding onto the pain that was already there. He led me to one of the empty rooms near the back of the building, opened the half-door and led me inside. He unlatched the abomination and patted my cheek. "There's a good lad," he said, and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I looked around my wooden prison: comfy bed made of wood shavings, nifty little window to stick your head out, full view of the Fence outside. It wasn't _that _bad. In fact, it was rather cozy and warm. And dry. I like being dry. Wet is for sissies.

I stuck my head over the door and stared looked at the other horses. They were beautiful, every one of them. I felt like a skunk in a rose bed.

"'scuse me."

I looked to my right. There was a fat, cream-coloured Shetland pony staring at me from the stall next door. "Yes?" I asked.

"Are you new?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. Articulate little thing, aren't I?

"Where were you bred?"

"Bred? Um…the valley…with the big tree….The wild."

His eyes grew round as berries. "What did you say?"

"The…the wild."

"Wow. I've never met a wild one before. So what are you doing here?"

"I want a human," I replied. "I'm bored of being wild. Where were you, um, bred?"

"Yorkshire, England," he said proudly. "At Shabby Shetlands and Shelties. The master bought me and my brother for the little mistresses," he explained.

Another pony now protruded from the room next to the first pony's. "You say something about me? Who's this?"

"He's new," said the first pony. It was astonishing how similar they looked. They were both short, fat, and cream-coloured. They both had shaggy white manes and soft pink muzzles. They both had small white stars on their foreheads and raindrop-shaped The only real difference was that one had brown eyes and the other had blue.

"Really?" said the second pony (the one with the blue eyes). "How di doo! My name's Ghost Ship, but the little mistress calls me Chip."

"Yes, and I'm Hill and Dale, but _my_ little mistress calls me Dale," said the first pony. "We're jumping ponies, you see. All the horses here do something—dressage, barrels, and all that jazz."

"Oh," I said. I was starting to feel _very_ out of place.


	3. Chapter 3: In Which I Meet the Master

**Chapter 3: In Which I Meet The Master**

I heard a light tinkling and the doors of the stable were slowly pushed open. I had been in that tiny room all day, and I was getting more claustrophobic by the second. Round about sunset I had started chewing on the door, so there were teeth-marks all over, and then there were nine loud _ding-dong_ sounds from the room where the stout two-legged was.

"Here he is," said a voice. It was Jacob, and there was a man…a tall man with a thick yellow hair on his lip and a short, neat yellow mane. His skin was as white as snow (pardon my cliché, but snow is white…and so was he). He was dressed smartly, with a tall, square hat and an expensive three-piece suit (that's what Chip told me, anyway. I have no knowledge of these things). In one of his split hooves (which Dale told me is called a hand) he held a piece of decorative wood, and a silver chain dangled from his belt loop into his pocket. He was somewhat of a young man…not as old as Jacob or the stout one in the next room, who had flecks of grey in their manes.

The man reached out and touched my neck. "He's a nice one," the man said softly. "He's a good size. Nice head…is he wild?"

"Yes," I said proudly.

"Not at all," Jacob replied. I snorted my protest. "A little shy of the halter, but he'll get used to it."

"Where did he come from?" the man asked.

"Dunno, sire. He just wondered in off the street, he did. Waltzed right into the barn and et an apple from my 'and."

The man looked at me silently, pondering. I stared back.

"He's a good size," the man said detachedly, running his fingers through his drooping mouth-hair.

"He is, Master," Jacob replied. "Good looking boy, as well."

Yes, but we knew that.

Master brushed my forelock to one side. "Jeremy!" he called, staring in the general direction of the door. He waved the boy over.

A shorter human ran in. He was up to Master's shoulders and had a leather ball about the size of his head tucked under his arm. Two identical little girl people ran in after him, lacy white garments flowing and straw things with blue ribbons placed over their curly gold manes.

The boy two-legged bowed and the little ones curtsied (my vocabulary is widening by the second).

Master motioned to the boy. "This is yours, Jeremy," he said, patting me so hard on the forehead stars were exploding in front of me. Oh, my aching head.

The boy, Jeremy, made a face. "He's, um…not for me, is he?"

"He is," Master replied suspiciously. "Is there a problem?"

"It's just," Jeremy started, sucking on his lower lip, "well, I like my horse."

"Your horse is dead, Jeremy."

He winced.

"You can't go around walking. How do you think that will make the family look? We don't want people thinking we're so poor our son has to walk to town!"

Jeremy stared down at his polished black hooves. "I know, but…"

"And this is a perfectly good horse! Maybe needs to be cleaned up and trained a little, but his handsome and he's here. You _will_ use him, understand?" Master demanded harshly.

"Yes, father," Jeremy replied softly, keeping his eyes on his shiny hoovsies.

_Stupid boy. His name's Master, not Father. Two-leggeds._

Master walked out with Jacob in tow, and the little girls curtsied and the boy bowed them out.

"He _is_ very handsome," one of the little girls said.

(Good taste these two-leggeds have. They know a winner when they see one.)

Jeremy shot her an evil look. "I don't care how handsome he is, he's _not_ my horse!"

(Except maybe _him_.)

The little girls stepped back. "All right," one said. They turned away and walked into Dale's stall, whispering to each other.

Jeremy looked at me angrily. "Stupid horse," he muttered, throwing the leather ball at my head. I just managed to dodge it and it went flying out the window and headed towards the Fence.

I snorted angrily.

The human glared at me and stormed out through the doors.

I stuck my tongue out at him as he passed. "Stupid horse hatter," I growled softly.

"Looks like you got yourself a human What's-Your-Name!" Chip whispered, hanging his head out of his stall.

"He's not _my human. My human_ won't throw balls at me!" I grumbled back.

"The master said he is, and so, he is," he replied. "Don't worry. He's a good boy, good rider. His horse used to be right across, there."

I looked at the empty stall opposite me. A dusty nameplate was nailed to the door. "Blue Sails?" I asked.

"Ay! Old Sally was quite the protective one when it came to her foals. Master Jeremy was one of them…sort of, anyway. She died in a trailer accident a few months ago."

I didn't even want to know what a trailer was.

"Number one rule when it comes to humans, What's-Your-Name. Never; repeat, NEVER—talk in front of them. They'll kill you and open your head so they can look at your brain. Disgusting really, but happened to a yearling in Yorkshire."

Ew.


	4. Ch4: In Which I Am The Laughing Stock

**Chapter 4: In Which I Am The Laughing Stock**

I didn't sleep well that night. All I could think about was a two-legged splitting open my head and examining the insides. When I did sleep, I dreamt of the poor yearling in Yorkshire.

I was awaked to the harsh cry of the rooster at dawn and the clopping of heavy hooves and squelching of mud. I poked my head out of my door and stared down the hall. A big grey stallion was standing in the middle of the g, hooked up to the walls by his halter. He was standing proud, head high and feet together, chest puffed out, as Jacob loaded the saddle onto his broad back. Master stood behind, examining the squat round man as he brushed the grey's tail out.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Dale.

"The Master's just got the call," Dale replied excitedly. "He's leaving, and taking Venture with him."

"What call?" I asked. "Who's Venture?" I wrinkled my nose. I tend to do that when I'm confused or otherwise distraught. I was both.

"He's going to war!" Chip said, turning his small head to me. "As for Venture, that's him. The massive grey. He's born and bred a warhorse. They say his great-great-great-and-so-on-grand-sire carried Napoleon into battle!"

"That's right! I heard them say it!" Dale enforced, nodding his shaggy head.

"War? Like...heard war? Did someone steal his mare?" And just for good measure, I added, "Who's Napoleon?"

"I suppose you could say that…if land was a mare and the brown-skins stallions," Dale said ponderously.

"What?" I asked. "Who're the brown-skins?"

"Don't waste your breath on him boys. He's just an ignorant feral," Ruby said, craning her neck in our direction.

I growled at her; I saw a cougar do it once when I was little and it scared the heck out of me. I figured it would have the same effect on her. It did.

She took a step back and defiantly looked away with a little "humph."

"I dislike her," I said softly.

"She's all right when you get to know her," Chip said lightly.

"You're good to go, sir," Jacob said, giving Venture a pat on the neck. I turned my attention back to them. "The best of luck to yeh, an' come home safe an' sound an' very soon."

Master chuckled lightly. "Thank you, Jacob. Thank you, Paul," he said, giving each man a nod and pulling himself into the broad saddle. "I'm off then – "

"Father wait!"

Everyone stopped as a wet and bedraggled little-ish body came shooting through the door.

"Take me with you!" he demanded, brushing wet hair out of his eyes. "I'm sixteen! I can handle my self in a fight! I never miss with a pistol! I ride better than half the men in the cavalry! I can do it, father, I can! You _know_ I can!"

Master sighed. "You're still young, Jeremy."

"I'm _sixteen_!"

"Two years shy of being a man! You hardly have a beard, son!"

"I SHAVE!" he shouted. "Let me go with you! I can help!"  
"When you are a man, Jeremy, then you can come. War is no place for boys."

"I am _not_ a boy," Jeremy said, his words dripping with acid.

"Prove it to me. Turn this mustang into a horse fit for the cavalry. Then you will be a man."

My ears pricked forward. "What, _me_? In a _war_?" I asked.

Venture craned his neck around for the first time, looked at me, and snorted a laugh. "The day that scrawny little nobody sees the front lines is the day I retire! It's impossible!"

I didn't know whether to be relieved or offended, so I just huffed and ignored him. I heard Ruby laugh her lady-like chuckle and felt my cheeks get hot.

"You just wait!" I snapped. "I'm gonna be the best carnival horse…"

"Cavalry horse," Dale corrected quietly.

"…cavalry horse you've ever seen!"

Venture and Ruby laughed so loudly the human-people turned and looked at them, wondering what was going on. A few other horses joined in as well, some of them laughing just as loud, some giving sarcastic titters, and some laughing because they had nothing better to do. It got to me just the same, though. And if I've inherited something from my father, it's his determination and hard headedness…probably his pride too.

"Just wait," I sneered.

"I'll do it," Jeremy said. "I'll turn him into a war horse. I'll ride that sorry mule into battle even if it kills me, I swear it!"

"Hey!" I snapped. "I'm on your side!"

Jeremy stormed out.

"He's in too much of a hurry to grow up," Master said, shaking his head. He dug his heels into Venture's white stomach. The big grey looked at me, laughed, and disappeared out the stable door into the cold, damp morning.

Then and there I made up my mind to be the best cavalry horse to ever live, whether "my human" believed it or not.


	5. In Which I Confront the Dreaded Fence

Hello everyone! Just so you know, you can now see the official picture of River here:

.com/art/River-119223185

**Chapter 5: In Which I Confront the Dreaded Fence**

I woke the next morning to a violent slam of the barn doors. The sun wasn't up yet, and neither were the other horses. I shook my head and squinted at the front of the barn. There was a jangling sound right next to me and I jumped back.

"Stop it, you stupid animal," someone said angrily. Jeremy. He's a morning person it seems.

He shoved a halter over my ears. I didn't bother nipping at him. He's in a foul enough mood already.

He clicked a lead to it and pushed open the stall door. As he led me out, I looked into a few of the surrounding stalls: Chip and Dale were snoozing lightly next door, the Princess had her head practically tucked under her legs, and the little filly from yesterday was snoozing on the ground next to her mother, grunting and kicking every so often. He pulled me out into the chilly morning, down a dirt lane that wove around the back of the stable and up to a circular area surrounded by the Fence. He opened a part of the Fence and tugged my rope, trying to drag me in after him. I planted my hooves firmly in the soil.

"I'm not going in there!" I protested. "I want to _live_, thank you."

Jeremy howled in frustration. "Hurry up, horse!" he growled, pulling hard.

I neighed and half-reared, then staggered back, pulling him out of reach of the Fence's hungry fangs…or something like that. He dug his heels into the ground and pulled harder at the lead, moving back with all the force he could muster. At first, nothing happened, then slowly my hooves began to slide.

"Heck no!" I squealed. "You'll never take me alive!" and jumped back, knocking him off his feet. I reared and neighed, and cantered back down the lane and back into the stable, leapt the gate into my stall and crashed into the back wall. Oh well. At least I was safe from the wrath of the Fence.

I panted hard, staring out of the door to see if he would follow. Nothing happened after a while, and I dipped my head down to drink from the tin bucket in the corner.

"Haha!"

My lead was tugged much too heard, slamming my head into the door. I howled and jumped back, dragging Jeremy into the other side. I heard a dull thud and a yelp as he hit the door.

"THAT'S IT!" he yelled. He stood up, yanked open the door, put the lead over his shoulder and lunged at the door of the buckskin across the hall. He crashed into it, and I followed close after, falling over myself and hitting my head on the floor. I sprang to my feet and stood dazed for a few seconds. He didn't hesitate, though, and sprang to his feet, dragging me unwillingly out the door of the stable.

I got my head back in the game and vaulted myself back in side.

"What in BLAZES are you doing?" Dale asked as I bolted past his stall and into mine. I kicked the door shut and pressed my bum against it so Jeremy couldn't get in.

"Running from certain death!" I yelped, panting hard.

"From what?" Chip asked, popping his head over the side.

"Certain DEATH!"

"What death?" he asked.

"That monster wants to take me into…" I gasped and braced myself mentally, "the Fence."

They stared blankly at me.

"I said, 'the Fence!' "

"What's wrong with the fence?" Dale asked.

My turn to stare blankly. "It…it'll eat me," I replied unconfidently; seeing them not freak out made me doubt my sanity.

They burst into laughter.

"Fences don't _eat_ you!" Chip laughed. "They're meant to keep you in so the masters can _train _you! Horse-eating fence. Ha! Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?"

My ears drooped. "Really?" I asked, more embarrassed than horseily possible.

"Really," Dale replied.

"Oh…"

"Stupid horse!" Jeremy shouted, storming into the barn.

"Remember," Dale whispered, "no speaking in front of the people. They get accustomed to our speech, and then…well, you know."

Yeah. I know. Yorkshire.


	6. In Which I Am A Ninny

Apparently I gave you guys the wrong link in chapter five XP Here's the REAL thing, so you know more or less what River looks like…it'll probably change in a while though cuz I'm not too fond of the pic. The rest of the group will come along later…

1. yuralria. deviantart

2. .com/art/River-119223185

It wouldn't show the first art when I put it as one, so when you put in the url, paste the first part of the url in and then the second (underlined bits only)

**Chapter 6: In Which I am a Ninny**

After that, I allowed Jeremy to lead me to the fence, head hanging and tail drooping in shame. Yes, shame. You'd be embarrassed too if you'd woken up the entire stable for an imaginary threat.

By the time we got back to the fence, we had both calmed down considerably.

Jeremy unbolted the lock on the fence door and slowly, hesitantly and tensely pulled me in. I took several steps forward (seemingly willingly) and he sped up, all caution lost. Once I was all in, he fancy-knotted my lead rope to one side of the fence and slid the lock shut once more.

I twitched my ears nervously and looked around. The circle was empty except for Jeremy and I. I looked at him over my shoulder. He was staring at me critically, looking me up and down. I did the same of him – shiny black boots, tight beige pants that no male should wear, loose white shirt, stone cold face (dirty from our earlier adventures) and the messily knotted back mop on his head.

Finally he came up to me, unravelled the knotted lead, and started walking around the circle, pulling me along behind him.

At first I stayed still, watching him carefully. He tugged gently on the lead, which I took as "keep it moving, you handsome devil you." I didn't…move. I stayed where I was. He turned and looked at me again, then came back and slipped his fingers through my halter.

I neighed and jumped back, but he held firm. He was strong for a scrawny little no good son of a tick. He tugged gently on the halter, in a way that suggested, "Let's get this over with. I have better things to do than waste my time out here with a wayward beauty like yourself." I whole-heartedly agreed – except about the beauty part. If I'm the goat, he's the ogre under the bridge. I like goats. They're cute and always have pleasant conversations. And I like their coats. I wish I had horns. Then I'd be a unicorn…or a goatnicorn. Heck yeah. I'd be bi –

He yanked again and I stumbled forward, snapping out of my goatnicorn centred dreams. As soon as I put one foot in front of the other, he clicked his tongue.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" I wondered out loud. I figured maybe he was calling a dog – I had seen a fuzzy black and white one sneak into the stable last night – and stopped, looking around. Ears pricked forward, I listened for the tell-tale sound of glass-shattering yaps that accompanied their arrival. I dislike dogs as much as I like goats. They make too much noise and then they bite at your ankles and get their fleas all over you. Yuck.

He pulled on my halter again, once more breaking my herd of thought. As I stumbled forward, he clicked again. I continued to walk slowly, but waited tentatively for the dog. 'Where is the little bugger?' I wondered to myself.

I followed him once around the circle without noticing. Someone neighed – someone I hadn't met yet – and I stopped. It sounded like "Get your paws out of my yoghurt, Sooty!"

I stopped and pricked my ears forward. What the heck is 'yoghurt?' And who the heck is Sooty?

Another yank, accompanied by a click, and I looked around once again for the black and white dog – nothing. I calmed down and followed Jeremy around the enclosure a few more times. This incessant circle walking was getting extremely irritating – and boring. I wanted to run.

And then I heard it – little thuds, four of them, one after the other, running toward me. My eyes grew wide, my breathing short and rapid. There was a little squeal and I lost it. "DOG!" I screamed. I reared up, taking Jeremy off the ground. He yelped as I kicked the air with my legs and swung my head around, trying to get him untangled. He wouldn't let go, and the sound of small feet came closer and closer. I could hear breathing now, not mine and not Jeremy's. I leapt into the air and bolted around the circle, dragging Jeremy along, screaming, "Slow down! Stop! HO, you stupid beast, HO!" I didn't stop, and his hand slid out of my halter. By the time he got up I was half way around the circle. He threw himself in front of me.

"What are you, stupid?!" I yelled in a frenzy, not slowing down as I approached him (I'm a prey animal. My safety comes first.)

"Ho!" he yelled. "HO, horse, HO!!" I didn't HO. I didn't know what the heck HO was, so I kept going, and he leapt over the fence just in time to not get trampled.

I ran at the gate, hoping it would open – I screamed and reared again, throwing myself backwards. The two little girls – the ones who belonged to Chip and Dale – were giggling just beyond it, pointing at their brother. But I saw no dog.

I stopped, legs apart and tensed, ready to bolt if I had to. I was covered in sweat, steaming air sliding out of my nostrils in puffs as I breathed out. My eyes were huge as I scanned the area for the dog. Nothing. I jumped when I realized he could be in here, with me, and spun around violently, prancing this way and that. Still no dog.

There was another squeal behind me and I zipped around – facing the two little girl people. They were squealing with pleasure – it sounded like a yipping dog. Together they had four relatively small feet, padded by hoof-covers. One of them was breathing very loudly, like she had been running too fast and laughing to hard, and the other smiled, soundless. And then it hit me. The dog was nonexistent and I – I was a ninny.

Fingers slipped slowly into my bridle, and I shied away a little, but realized there was nothing to be afraid of when I heard Jeremy's voice whispering soothing insults.

I stood perfectly still, relaxed now, and leaned against his hand, exhausted. He slapped my rump.

"See what you two did?" he growled at the little ones.

The one I had heard breathing laughed. "Sorry Jeremy. We didn't mean to. But it was funny!"

"I'm glad you find pleasure in my misfortune," he grunted, clipping the lead rope back on my halter. "I think we're done for today, don't you?" he whispered to me.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He patted my sweaty neck – I winced, thinking it was going to be violent, surprised when it wasn't (even more surprised when I found out I liked it) – and clicked. I automatically moved forward, surprised for the third time in thirty seconds, and followed him out of the fence. He and the two little ones, running back and fourth ahead of us, laughing and talking and taking turns rubbing my withers and neck, led me to another, much larger fenced in area. There were several other horses already in it (including the filly that I had met yesterday). It was wide – all I could see of the fence on the other side was a white line, which disappeared in some places. One of the little ones opened the gate and Jeremy brought me in.

"Lock it," he instructed.

"Why?" one of the girls asked.

"He might try to get away."

"Chip and Dale never try to get away," the other one said, speaking for the first time.

"That's because they're well trained," Jeremy said. "Now please lock it so I can get rid of this thing."

The first girl – the chatty one – slid the bolt home and asked, "How come you're so mean to him?"

I stood up straighter. I had been wondering the same thing.

He unclipped my lead with a sigh, sliding the halter over my ears and off my head. "It's complicated," He said.

"What kind of a lame answer is that?!" I asked out, blowing air through my nose to show my annoyance.

He slapped my rump hard. "Be gone with you, beast," he said.

I cocked my head, but stared where I was.

"Oh for heaven's sake," he said, exasperated. "Get a move on or I'll blow your head off. GO!" he said.

I neighed loudly and charged down the sloping hill, calling back, "As long as you don't geld me!" and laughing at my sorry excuse of a joke – it was funny at the time, even though no one else thought so.


	7. In Which I Face The Dog

**Chapter 7: In Which I Face…The Dog**

The new Fenced-in area was larger than I though it was. As it turned out, the end that I saw was false; really it just curved in an odd way and continued, disappearing over a hill. I stared out at it for a moment, thinking of how much it reminded me of my father's territory, the place that used to be my home. I told myself it wasn't my father's domain. It was _mine_. Everything I saw belonged to _me_. Or it would…someday. I just had to find someone to overthrow. Which I would. Eventually.

Then it hit me: where the heck was everyone else?

I whinnied loudly, launching myself onto my back hooves so I could get a better view. Nothing. I was alone.

Now horses, we're pack animals. We don't do so good alone, especially me, born and raised in my father's whopping great herd, where you couldn't get a moment to yourself even if you _wanted_ it.

I panicked and bolted down the hill, neighing as loud as I could, throwing down my hooves as hard as possible, making as much noise as I was capable of, so even the dead couldn't miss me.

I pounded up and down a small hill, going back and forth in an awkward zigzag, and then up a bigger hill. I stopped under a big tree with widespread branches and looked out over the valley below, breathing hard. This was not turning out to be a very good day.

I frantically scanned the wide-open spaces – This was turning out to be a very bad day.

There! Something moved!

The something burst out from behind a cluster of trees in the valley below me, a black and white blob of energy. I was so relieved to see something living that I didn't notice what it was until it was halfway up the hill, and then –

"DOG!" I screamed. I jerked around and bolted, the fuzzy black and white enemy barking at me from the rear. I launched myself down the hill and around the tree, then turned a sharp right, made a U-turn, and flipped back around, trying to confuse the bundle of death that was hot on my heels. Nothing worked. It was still behind me, barking wavelengths of doom at my hooves.

I bucked, trying to keep it away, and it feel back, but didn't give up. I bucked again, and again, and still it came, white teeth gnashing at my heels. I turned left and shot up a hill. The dog followed.

HERD! My head was screaming. SAFEETY!

I threw myself over the hill and then over another one, and then I saw, in the distance, a group of flicking tails and swivelling ears. I charged for them, kicking out at the dog, who barked in happy pursuit, probably anticipating sinking its horrid jaws in my soft, supple flesh.

I whinnied loudly at the herd – mares, several foals, including the little filly from yesterday. The filly lifted her head and whinnied back, then came charging towards me.

"No!" I shouted at her. "Go back! Go back!"

Either she didn't listen, or she didn't care, she just kept on coming. And then she did something quite unexpected – she launched herself at the dog, and both fell in a crumpled heap.

"NO!" I yelled dramatically as I watched them tumble down the hill.

I skidded down after them, digging my hooves into the dirt at the bottom to stop. Neither dog nor filly had moved. Two hundred yards away, the heard grazed on, oblivious of the tragedy unfolding so close by.

I nudged the filly gently, holding my breath, fearing the worst. What would I tell her mother? She had died a hero? What would that do to comfort a two thousand pound grieving mare?

The dog yawned and stood up, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, the picture of cruelty and fear.

I reared up and slammed my hooves hard on the ground in front of it. The dog whimpered, tucking its savage tail between its deadly legs, and stalked off, in search of other prey. It lost interest as soon as the subject of its torture passed on.

"Why'd you do that?" the filly asked, jumping to her feet.

"You're alive!" I yelled, prancing backward in shock. "How?! It must've – "

The filly looked at me in confusion. "No one ever died rolling down a hill, silly," she said with a swish of her short, black tail.

"Not the hill," I exclaimed, "the savage _dog_!"

"Savage?" she asked, cocking her head. "No one's ever called Soot savage before."

"Soot?" I asked.

"The…savage dog," she said. "The master lets him run loose because he's a house dog. He wasn't good enough to be a sheep dog; he didn't bite the sheep when they ran away, just tried to persuade them to go back to the herd. Sheepdog-fail."

My turn to be confused. "Huh?" I asked articulately.

"He's really sweet. He's the only one who plays with me. The others won't cuz I'm a _girl_." She stuck her tongue out in the herd's general direction.

"Wha…?"

"He wouldn't hurt a fly," she said encouragingly.

"But he _chased_ me! And snapped at my heels!" I protested, prancing back in a lame display of our epic chase.

"He's just playing," she said, giggling. "His favourite games are tag and tug-of-war, though he's not very good at either. I let him win sometimes, though."

I stared at her blankly, then tried one more time to impose upon her what had been imposed upon me in my foalhood: "But dogs are evil."

She shook her head, making her short main undulate in a comical way. "Who told you that, silly?" she asked.

"Let's see…dad, mom, grandmother, uncles, aunts, take your pick."

"That's wild!" she said (which is apparently human-owning-horse for something "crazy", "untrue", "ridiculous" or the like). "All the dogs here are nice. I've never met a mean one, much less an evil one. You must be wild!"

"Yeah," I said, laughing nervously, "well, I was only joking. I know dogs are cool. My best friend was a dog when I was a foal, a white one…with brown spots…only better."

She laughed. "You had me fooled!" she said, and started prancing off in the direction of the small herd. She looked back over at me. "You coming or what?"

A very bad day indeed.


	8. In Which I Am A Midget

Hey guys! For all those who actually keep tabs on this story, sorry it's taken so long to upload chapter 7. It's been one heck of a summer, but I finally have time, and so as an apology, I'm throwing two at 'cha! Yay! 

Enjoy.

**Chapter 8: In Which I Am A Midget **

I followed the little filly toward the herd, not in any rush, revelling in shame (not something I do very often).

She pranced ahead, then turned around and skipped back, lifting her legs high so they looked like sideways 'L's. "Look at me," she said happily, holding her tail erect, "I'm a show horse!" She squealed, delighted at her comparison (it was never gonna happen, but it made her happy, right?), and trotted ahead.

"When I grow up," she said, walking backwards so we could talk. She was still trying to 'walk like a show horse,' but it wasn't as impressive backwardds, and she kept tripping over her hooves. "When I grow up I'm gonna be a carriage horse, like daddy. He holds his head up like this," she pulled her neck up so it was almost straight. It looked uncomfortable, "and he has heavy shoes so he lifts his feet like this," she did the 'L' thing again, still backwards, "and he holds his tail up like _this_," she said, straining to make he tail straighter and longer. "He's the master's most favouritist carriage horse! And I'm gonna be too!"

I winced as she tripped over her hind hooves, falling to the ground in a heap. "Better you than me," I muttered as she straightened herself.

"Sorry?" she asked politely, trotting beside me now, no longer a carriage horse.

"Um…I said, 'Isn't that painful?' " I replied. I didn't wanna crush the girl's dreams, not yet. That was somebody else's problem, for when she was older. If it happened now, who knows? She might become a troubled teen. Ick.

"What do you wanna be when _you_ grow up?" she asked.

I snorted at her. "I am grown up," I replied.

She shook her head again, and her wimpy mane did that weird undulating thing again. "Nuh ah! My mummy says you're just a teenager!"

I snorted at her again. "Well, your mummy's wrong," I said. "I'm a grown up, and I'm going to be a cavalry horse."

"My mummy's always right – a cavalry horse?" she asked, stopping in her tracks. "Why a cavalry horse?"

"Why a carriage horse?" I asked, feeling that I had stumped her.

"Because my daddy's a carriage horse, duuuh," she said, trotting a little to catch up with me. "Haven't you been listening?"

Oh yeah. I'd forgotten about that.

"So why a cavalry horse?"

I shrugged (as best a horse can, which looks more like a little hop than a subtle up-lifting of the shoulders). "I dunno," I said, though I knew very well why I wanted to be a cavalry horse.

"That's a silly answer," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust for my lack of knowing.

I blew out indignantly, making a half-snort, half-grunt. "Whatever," I said.

"Honey, _what_ are you doing?" someone asked. A mare.

Honey pranced forward and disappeared into the herd of mares and foals. I couldn't see her, but I know where she was; her mother was so huge her head stood out over everyone else's.

The massive mare's head disappeared into the crowd awhile, and I knew they were discussing something. Meanwhile, I stood at the edge of the herd, largely unnoticed, waiting for…I dunno, for something. Acknowledgment maybe.

The full brown face shot back up and looked directly at me. I stared at it for a while, not moving, and then it started towards me.

The buckskin filly trotted proudly out of the herd before her mother, in full, excruciatingly uncomfortable looking carriage horse style. She tossed her mane (what little she had) and whinnied triumphantly…I'm not sure why, but she did. And then her mother appeared.

The mare came apart from the herd and stood in front of me. She was even bigger up close, towering over me – my ears came up just past her withers. I know. Insane right?

I staggered back a few steps and had to go carriage horse on their butts so I could see her face.

She looked down at me and blew air out her nostrils with a disapproving _fwhof._

"_You _want to be a warhorse?" she asked incredulously. "I'm sorry darling, but you're rather on the _small_ side to be ridden into the middle of a battle. The enemy won't even have to reach _up _to slice your rider's head off."

An involuntary image flashed into my mind: me running into battle with Jeremy on my back, and then…_thwock_. You know.

I pushed it away and pulled myself to my full height (so my ears went about a centimetre higher. Not much of a diffrence but better than nothing. Can I hear an 'Amen?' Thank you! You sir, in the back. Thank you. I now feel loved). I puffed up my chest the way my father did when he faced the enemy, hooves widespread and planted firmly in the ground, eyes full of fire (I tried my best, but I think it takes practice. It's kind of quenched by my name…why couldn't they have named me Cinder, or Coal, or something intimidating like that? I mean…River. Who's gonna be scared of someone called River? They may as well have called me Babbling Brooke). Granted, it was a lot less intimidating when you had to look _up_ at the enemy…but it made me feel…like…an idiot….

"Oh yes, dearie, I _do _see you're point and you're awfully frightening, I assure you but…well, frankly, you're just not _big_ enough," she said, lowering her head so we were talking eye to eye.

"I may not be big, but I'm brave, and fast, and…a lot of other things too," I said lamely. I was going for epic.

"I'm _sure_ you are love, but you'd have to be at least Flower's size to be a warhorse, otherwise your Master has a horrible disadvantage." A dark bay mare towards the front of he herd lifted her big head, flicked her tail in greeting when she saw my persecutor, and then went back to grazing. I supposed that was Flower, and sadly, she was still a good two hands (about 8 inches) taller than me.

"But I'm big for my kind! I was the biggest in my herd! More than my father, even!" I whined, giving in.

"I know dear," she said kindly, "and you must be at _least_ fifteen point…" she studied me a little, "three hands but your warhorse is seventeen to eighteen hands!"

"Like Venture?" I said sadly (by this time I had dropped the tough-guy act).

"Yes, love," she said gently, "like Venture."

"How tall is he?" I asked.

"Eighteen point six, darling," she replied.

"Oh."

"If you don't mind my asking, aren't you the young stallion who ran into the fence?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's me," I said. "So what?"

"Oh nothing," she said. "Just curious is all. My name's Idie, and this little one here is Honey."

"Idie?" I asked, snapping out of my depression. And, apparently, my manners, cuz the next thing I said was, "That's a weird name."

"Yes, well, it's short for something, isn't it?" she said, pulling herself back up to her full height. "Short for Blackwater's Ides of March."

Honey tossed her head proudly and stood tall next to her mother. "_I'm_ gonna be big like her someday," she said with a flick of her tail.

"Lucky you," I grunted.

"Don't give up, sweet," Idie said, blowing my mane fondly. "You're still young, and who knows? Maybe they'll make a warhorse out of you someday."

I hate today.


End file.
